Seven days into the fortnight, Palmer returned to their loft bunks in the small hours of the morning with a blank face and a terse, “Tonight.” The girl had been induced to leave the door open for them, in the expectation that Palmer would come to her. Sheffield wondered if he’d had to promise to marry her, or if he’d maybe offered her silver for her virtue, but thought it would be better not to ask that either.
Palmer snatched an hour’s sleep and was up at c**k-crow, no sign in his face that any consideration weightier than horseshit troubled his mind. He and Sheffield cleaned tack and hauled water and did not speak much at all. There was no need to speak about the night to come. They had worked it all out well in advance.
The worst part was the waiting about until their mates should fal
